It was only then, at that precise moment, that I in any way connected Mettie's remarks with the thought of the Pirate Boy, now a purser in the —— Line.
"My dear Mettie," I said, "I should certainly write to him—write often, write affectionately, send him your photograph, work him a housewife for his cabin, carve him a frame for your photograph. I am delighted——"
"Oh! but nothing is settled yet," simpered Mettie.
It has sometimes struck me since, although one generally denies the suggestion, that the first sentiment of love-making may emanate from the woman's mind. But probably the Pirate will never know that it was not his own idea that he should fall in love with Mettie.
This evening I was looking over a lot of old letters, such as our fathers and mothers used to keep, put away in drawers with bits of ribbon tied round them in the days when there was more time for that sort of thing than there is now. And I came across the following letter, written in ink that has grown rather faded, and dated 1845. It describes a wedding, and I have saved it from a number of other letters which I have destroyed, to stick it into my diary as an appropriate sort of ending to my entries for to-day. The letter is a genuine one, and I have the original of it beside me now.
"MY DEAREST AUNT,
"You wished to hear all about our doings on Thursday. Though I dare say you have heard many editions of the affairs of that day, I take the earliest opportunity of relating to you, as I promised, my version of it, though how often was it wished that dear aunt and uncle had themselves been present to illuminate the picture. We all assembled at a quarter-past ten o'clock. The married ladies (and gentlemen, whether they were in that happy state or not) remained in the drawing-room till, at a given signal, the bride descended, followed by her bridesmaids—first Emily and myself, then Anne and Jane Schofield, then Anna and Eliza Schofield. The four first were in pink, the two last in blue. After talking over matters a little, we entered our respective carriages, mamma going in the first carriage, and papa and Mary bringing up the rear. We went through the ceremony very well. Mary responded in a perfectly clear and audible voice; but once the worthy bride-groom faltered, and as I stood next to him could perceive he was somewhat agitated. The ceremony of kissing being finished, we returned from church, when numerous and costly presents were exhibited to the eyes, and amongst them none more beautiful than my dear uncle and aunt's. But, by way of parenthesis, mamma wishes me to ask you, as Mary has two silver canisters, whether you would have any objection to change the kind and elegant expression of your feeling for Mary into a silver waiter. Knowing your kindness, we sent it by Uncle Kershaw. Now to proceed. We descended to breakfast—a most important business, which occupied us a considerable time—in the middle of which Uncle Ainsworth produced a bunch of grapes, and signified his intention of drinking Mary Schofield's health in the red juice of the grape. He immediately expressed the juice and suited the action to the word. Robert Arncliffe made a beautiful speech—quite a gem. We then proceeded to dress the bride in travelling attire. Then came the dreadful moment of parting. Mamma and papa got over it most wonderfully; suffice it to say our sisters' tears flowed most copiously on that day. After her departure, we took a drive to restore us to that harmony of spirits so desirable when persons are the entertainers of others. We drove through Hyde Park and Regent's Park in procession, and stopped to walk in the Zoological Gardens, coveting the society of the brute creation as well as the rational. We then returned to dinner, which was at seven, when, to our indescribable horror, on calling over the names of certain young ladies, we discovered their toilet was not complete when dinner was announced. After a small delay, however, the offenders appeared, and the business of dinner was commenced with astonishing vigour. There is no occasion to describe to you the manners and customs of a dinner-table, as a sameness must naturally pervade all such employments. We ladies at length signified our intention of leaving the gentlemen masters of the field, and Uncle Jesse came out with us and went to bed. We proceeded to enjoy a small quadrille, till I suppose the sound of feet called the other portion of the community from below. After tea and a little display of musical powers, we had another quadrille; but this did not occur till Emily was gone. We finally separated at half-past eleven. We have heard twice or three times from the newly-married people. They are in Bath to-day. Will you excuse, my dear aunt, this dreadful scrawl, but I have had so many notes to write, added to which I have sprained my right arm, which is now pleading to be spared any further exertions. Hoping that dear uncle and yourself, as well as dear Sarah, are well, and again begging to be excused this unconnected epistle, With united love to all, Believe me,
"Your very affectionate niece,
"MARGARET M. NAYLOR.
"MECKLENBURGH SQUARE,
August 1845."